


Vinegar And Honey

by AnonymouslyDead



Series: The Way Things End Now [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, France - Freeform, M/M, Making a home feel like home, Manipulation, Some Louisiana feel, Will has complex feelings ok, bad stuff comes later, hes a mess, numb ending, very vague rough nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-09-23 14:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymouslyDead/pseuds/AnonymouslyDead
Summary: Hannibal and Will settle in a new home, but Will has some doubts. Good thing Hannibal has some ways to “help”.





	1. Chapter 1

In the end, things go off with less fanfare than Will expected. No murder. No investigations. Will and Hannibal are able to hop aboard a plane and leave everything behind once they’ve recovered enough.

They’re going to France, Hannibal explained. Somewhere, he spent a part of his childhood. Savory food. Lovely art. Fascinating history. 

Less than savory people is what Will thinks with a certain sense of looming dread. Hannibal can always find them. 

But, the flight went well enough with light banter between the two of them. Then, they approached Marseille, and Will is left speechless.

“Never been to France?” 

Will shook his head, trying to take everything in at once. Aged buildings lined up in neat rows stood before a beautiful sea peppered with jagged cliffs and huge boats that looked like mere specks from up in the air. 

“I used to live here when I was younger. In Paris, to be more specific. Truth be told, I’ve never been to Marseille in particular, though I thought this region would be more suited to your tastes.” 

Will wasn’t sure what that was meant until later after they’ve given the airport their new fake names and collected their sparse luggage. Hannibal led him off to an area out of the city to a small, boxy looking house hidden by a thin span of trees and brush. 

The house looked similar to the ones they had passed, but the inside clearly has Hannibal’s touch. The kitchen is expansive, filled with sleek, chrome appliances, marble counters, and dark cabinets. Almost like a ghost of his original. Will shivered at the memory. 

Everywhere else was decorated immaculately as if it came straight from a magazine. Spotless rooms with furniture he probably never could afford places just so to give the image of perfection. 

It was disorienting. But then again, Hannibal always was. 

“Anything you don’t like can be replaced. I merely wished for our new home to fill more like a home before we moved in.” Hannibal said so easily for something that bewildered Will to no end. 

Sure, this was his choice. It was always better to keep Hannibal close, to keep Hannibal where he could at least see any attacks coming. It was a dangerous game to play, and yet... 

He felt more comfortable than he should. Like he was back at his own home. 

A twist of sadness poisoned his mind as the image of home popped into his mind. His dogs would be waiting diligently by the door for their master, confused as to what’s taking him so long, while Molly and Walter mourned with the knowledge he’d never come home.

Will tried for a moment to justify himself. It was better this way. They’d be much safer with him gone. It’ll just take time for them to accept what’s done. 

But even so, he knew he didn’t make this decision for them. It was entirely selfish, and he deserved the shame he felt in triplicate. 

Will jumped as a hand ghosted his shoulder. And just like that, Hannibal slid into view, giving him a concerned look. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Fine. I’m fine. It’s just-“ Will rubbed his face, an excuse to break away from Hannibal’s burning gaze. “Travel.” He finished lamely.

Hannibal hummed. Will had a feeling he didn’t believe him, but he didn’t push it. He then began to walk away into the kitchen much to Will’s relief. 

“There’s a dock a few yards away.” Hannibal said pointing a knife he drew from the block towards the eastern wall. Will felt a shock at the sight, remembering Hannibal buried one in his stomach, but Hannibal laid it down on the counter as he moved towards the fridge. “Perhaps, That may help. And when you’re done, we can have dinner.” 

Will agreed; he didn’t have much of an argument against it anyway. He followed Hannibal’s direction and found the dock easily. It’s a weathered thing made of creaky wooden boards and logs covered in molding rope. 

It reminded Will of when he was younger. Will walked up the dock and sat down at the edge. Salty, grey waters smacked softly against the old logs that disappeared into the water. 

Back when he was still in Louisiana where everywhere was wetlands and the name of the game was fishing every chance you got until you forgot the stress of the work week.

God, when was the last time he went fishing? Will couldn’t quite remember. He never had the opportunity when he was working case after case for the FBI. Then, he was imprisoned in a game that lead him from Florence to here. 

Will started out at the water that seemed to stretch on forever, watching as the sun dipped lower towards the horizon. 

He’d have to get a new rod sometime. Check out what type of fish gather around here. 

“Will?” He heard Hannibal say before his shoes clacked against the dock. He could sense Hannibal standing right behind him. For a moment, Will has a dull fear that Hannibal would try to drown him. He had the perfect spot to do away with him. 

But then, Will looked up at Hannibal, and that soft expression was across his face. The delicate, caring one that showed Will just how Hannibal got along in his career as a psychiatrist. 

“Am I interrupting?”

“No.” Will shook his head, more to rid himself of the warm fondness pulling in his stomach. Must be nostalgia, he decided. 

Nostalgia for better days, his mind supplied as he looked up at Hannibal and saw him back at his home in Baltimore as they prepped to dine. 

“Well, I just wanted to say dinner is served.” Hannibal said. 

“What’s for dinner?” Will asked, though he felt tentative about the subject. Hannibal smirked just slightly and nodded back towards their house. “Come and find out.” He seemed to say. 

And, Will did just as he always has. It turned out to be crawfish etouffee much to his relief, plated on the polished dining table in their spacious dining room. Still, Will looked over his own serving carefully before tentatively taking a bite. 

It was delicious. Probably some of the best he’s ever eaten actually. It was like home was in every bite. 


	2. Chapter 2

Their lives went on. Hannibal set up a practice within the city. Will found himself a job at a nearby college substituting for a professor out on maternity leave. All with faked documentation that Will didn’t question.

Just like always. 

Their lives mostly seemed separate, especially when the work picked up. There were plenty of patients lined up for Hannibal to twist to his design while teaching cane with almost as much work at home as it did during his classes. 

But, Will was grateful for it in a way. All the work kept the situation at arms length. He didn’t have to question things when he was gone all day, teaching classes and filling office hours. When Hannibal scheduled appointments back to back so he was out of the house till sunset. When Will was too busy grading essays and signing paperwork under his new fake name. 

But through avoidance, he was getting too comfortable in the situation. 

Hannibal seemed to be playing nice at the moment. He was civil at the rare times their schedules seemed to sync up, offering interesting conversation. Sometimes, he filled their house with sweet melodies in the evenings from his new harpsichord, the one Will had to haul in from the post office. More often than not though, Hannibal offered a meal. 

There was no red meat. The only meat Hannibal seemed interested in preparing these days was what Will brought in from his more successful stints at fishing. Even then, Hannibal made a big deal of prepping the seafood, insisting on giving Will a show with dinner. One that showed his prowess with a knife as he easily filleted the trout Will had caught earlier that day. 

He’s probably done that to someone. The thought entered his head and set him even more on edge. 

Will didn’t believe this facade. Hannibal was predator who craved blood and flesh. There was no way that Hannibal could be satisfied with such an inferior diet. 

He doesn’t find anything around the house. Of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what he expected. Then again, he hadn’t expected half of Hannibal’s crimes during his stint as the Chesapeake Ripper. For all he knew, there was another horrific sculpture of flesh waiting somewhere. 

Will thought if he could just find something it would settle his nerves in a strange, fucked up way. At least then, he’d know he wasn’t crazy. That he wasn’t viewing another lie cooked up by Hannibal. That Hannibal was still Hannibal no matter how domestic he wanted to play.

So one day when Hannibal was off at work, he tore the house apart. He searched through every nook and cranny, thinking there must be something secret he was missing. It’s not like there were any rooms Hannibal kept from him. Even his room. 

Will had seen glimpses of it in passing, but he hadn’t thought to really examine it. Now, he barged in on a mission. 

It wasn’t as lavishly decorated as Will expected. The white room, of course, had a large four poster bed in a rich dark wood with a fuzzy creme colored area rug under it. Will ran a hand over the maroon bedding. Silk, of course. 

He found nothing hiding under the bed nor anything around the bed. The dark wood floor itself was bare. 

There was a matching desk and a dresser to the right of the room. The dresser wasn’t interesting. Just clothes precisely folded into neat stacks. The desk however…

The wall around the desk was plastered in drawings. There’s a single framed drawing done in neat charcoal lines of a building Will doesn’t know in the center of the mess. However, the rest of the drawings seem to be tacked to the wall. A few- ranging from townscapes to vague anatomical diagrams- look familiar like the ones he’d plaster to his cell walls when Alana let him. 

Old habits die hard, he guessed. 

His desk is a surprising mess. There are drawing tools and paper scattered across its surface with empty containers at its edges. The top papers he can see were blank, but there was a charcoal line peaking out one the page they obscured. Will carefully extracted it. 

It was his portrait…or at least, half of it. The outline was there along with facial mapping and the start of some detailing on the top half of his face. Between the hair, the eyes, and the start of stubble, how could it not be him?

He left feeling strange. 

How could there be nothing? No blood? No guts? No freezer full of mystery meat? 

In fact, the freezer was empty except for a carton of leftover homemade ice cream Hannibal had made one night for dessert. 

It was plain vanilla, Will’s favorite and so unlike Hannibal. 

Hannibal must’ve been watching him. Observing what he bought and keeping in mind what Will would like. 

It was probably the best that he’d ever had at that, and the fact that he hadn’t had to ask for it was nice. Almost like Hannibal was willing to bend for him. 

It was a fantasy. A ruse. A trick. Just like their entire relationship has been. 

“Can I help you find something, Will?” Hannibal interrupted. Like a phantom, he was looming over his shoulder, watching him. Will wanted to curse, but it was his own fault. He checked the time. 

Yep, it was after 6. Hannibal was bound to be home.

“Just a snack.” Will said. He pulled out the carton only for Hannibal’s hands to quickly claim it. 

“I was actually thinking of making a pie tonight with this on top.” Hannibal explained, putting the carton back before swinging the freezer door closed. “Besides, it wouldn’t do to spoil your appetite. Perhaps, you can pour your interest in food into helping me in the kitchen instead?” 

It’s a diversion to put him off. The look in Hannibal’s eye gold Will he was caught. That he was pinned down and had no choice but to accept. 

That didn’t stop the smile on his face when Will agreed though. 

Didžkukuliai was on the menu tonight. Some kind of potato dumplings. And despite himself, Will found himself growing excited by the idea. Even when Hannibal put him washing potatoes.

“Mother used to make these when I was a child.” Hannibal explained as he put Will’s potatoes boiling. “Can you hand me another pot? A large one preferably.”

Will moved to the lower cabinet that held the larger pots. He produced one that seemed adequate and passed it to Hannibal. 

“Getting sentimental?” Will asked. Hannibal shrugged. 

“Food is nostalgic. It fills the senses and helps us connect memories to stimuli. Wouldn’t you agree?” Hannibal gave him an easy smile. 

Will found it easy to send one back with a nod. Despite the fact that most of the food Hannibal has given him was connected to murder. 

Hannibal produced handfuls of vegetables, instructing Will to wash and cut. Will took the job as well as he could, though it was hard. He chopped the soggy vegetables on a cutting board in front of the knife block. Behind him, Hannibal rustled around, adding ingredients to the pot Will had given him. He seemed as if he was in a trance as he added pinches of spices before checking the boiling potatoes. 

This would be the perfect time to stab him. If he was quiet enough, he could slit Hannibal’s jugular before Hannibal could fight back. 

No! Will shook his head. 

It’d be the perfect time for Hannibal to stab him in the back as well. He probably has a knife stashed around here for a situation just like this. He could spring on Will while he’s distracted. Fillet him up into a nice meal to satisfy his thirst for blood. 

No no no! This wouldn’t make sense then! 

There was a heavy plop that cut through the silence. Will jumped, nearly slicing his fingers across a carrot. He looked over at Hannibal who’s fingers where clasped around a circular bone. 

Will’s heart raced. It was a vertebrae. 

Shit, he knew it. 

Hannibal looked at him with a frown. He held up the bone and then gestured with a package wrapped in butcher’s paper. “Soup bones.” He supplied. 

Will looked at the bone again. It was too wide and smooth to be a vertebrae. Fuck. 

Hannibal set the package down in favor of looking at Will concerned. “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

He has, but he doesn’t say it. He just shook it off, taking the knife into his hand. He sliced into the carrot and managed to nick his finger. He cursed. 

It’s then that Will realized his hands were shaking. The lull after the scare had left him feeling exhausted frankly. 

“I don’t appreciate liars, Will.” 

Hannibal’s fingers curled around the knife clutched in Will’s hand, easing the knife from his grip. Then, Hannibal gestured to the kitchen table with the knife. “Sit.” 

“I’m fine.” 

Hannibal gave him a look and gestured again. This time, Will didn’t fight it. He sat and watched as Hannibal made quick work of the remaining vegetables, cutting through them with quick precision. 

Will wondered idly if that was the point of Hannibal’s insistence on watching him cook. It’s been about a month since Will had moved in and he already wasn’t phased by Hannibal handling a knife. It was just a part of life now, listening to the steady thud of his knife chopping against the cutting board. 

Conditioning, his mind supplied. 

It took longer than Will expected, but there was a bowl of soup in front of him along with a glass of wine. Hannibal set his own dinner down before seating himself. As Hannibal dug in, Will hesitated a moment before helping himself. 

The dumpling soup is warm and flavorful. Comforting in a way. It helped settle his nerves as he quickly devoured his bowl. 

“Tell me, Will.” Hannibal started. Will paused to look up from his bowl. Hannibal swirled around his glass of wine, but his gaze was locked onto him. Intense but somehow soft at the same time. “What troubles you so that you choose to search my room instead of asking me yourself?” 

Will tried to keep his face neutral, something that didn’t look guilty. Hannibal let out a soft sigh before setting down his glass. 

“It’s rather negligent of you to leave tracks in my carpet. Has your time away from the FBI dulled your sense of discretion?” 

Will set his spoon down loudly. “What exactly are you planning?” Will demanded. 

Hannibal blinked, taken aback. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb. You and I both know you have blood on your hands.” 

“As do you.” Hannibal pointed out. Will have him a pointed look. Hannibal held up his hands. “Honestly, Will, I have done a thing.” 

“But, you said we’d have to take lives. When?” 

“Well, I don’t know, Will. Be patient. I’m sure the opportunity will present itself.” 

“That’s not what I mean.” Will insisted. 

“Oh.” Any softness in Hannibal’s eye steeled over. “You think I’m an animal, killing recklessly.” Hannibal stood up with a huff. “I thought you knew me better than that. After I went through all this trouble.” 

With that, Hannibal left to his room. Will wanted to protest, feeling a bit guilty But, it’s not like what Hannibal said wasn’t what he had been thinking. 

Will didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

The next day was tense. By the time Hannibal came home from work, Hannibal was frankly in a pissy mood. He moved through setting up dinner in silence, serving leftover dumpling soup. The two ate in an awkward silence that Will swore would’ve ended with Will dropping dead. 

Frankly, he was surprised he survived the night with all of his limbs intact. 

The next day went a little better. Instead of holing up in his room, Hannibal took over the living room. He sat at the piano, trilling out a haunting tune that carried in Will’s mind even after Hannibal turned in that night. 

Will really needed to say something. Despite everything, Hannibal’s bad mood was weighing on his mind. 

Hannibal was his...something. He didn’t have a name for it, and he didn’t know if he wanted to put one. He just knew that he missed Hannibal. He missed the easy rhythm that was in his life where he could come home and watch Hannibal create something new and wonderful from nothing. To be able to witness the vicious Chesapeake Ripper soften. 

So the next day, when Hannibal sulked over to his piano again, Will followed. 

“Listen, I’m sorry.” Will stated as sincerely as he could muster. Hannibal at the piano bench rested his fingers along the vintage keys but didn’t play. Will took that as a good sign. 

“I’m sorry I invaded your privacy. I’m sorry I lied. I just...don’t know what’s going on in your head, and it’s driving me nuts. It’s like I think I can relax...that I have you pinned down...and I just remember everything. It’s terrifying.”

Hannibal sighed and shook his head. “Oh, Will.” Hannibal slid to one side on the bench, gesturing for Will to take the empty spot. Will took it and watched as Hannibal’s fingers searched out their beginning keys. “You could always ask.” 

The tune that he tapped out was slow and melodic with a melancholic tone to it. 

“What do you think?” Will asked softly, transfixed with Hannibal’s dancing fingers. 

“I think I’m content as I am. I have good food and good company in a beautiful city. Why would I want to change that?” 

The tune persisted, it’s tone escalating to a faster, almost violent edge. Will sucked in a breath. The notes seemed to strike deep down in him. 

“You will kill though.” 

“Eventually.” Hannibal admitted, striking a booming note with his fingers before continuing. 

Will accepted that with a nod. 

“Thank you.” 

Hannibal looked at Will in interest. The song itself was slowly dying, the notes slowing and leaving more of an echo. 

“For everything.” 

Hannibal nodded with a soft smile. He tapped the last notes, letting the final one echo the longest. It took Will a moment to realize he was finished. 

“What was that?” 

“A song I composed while I was imprisoned. For you.” 

That, at least, explained the tone. It was a death march. 

“It’s beautiful.” Will said. 

“Thank you.” 

Hannibal stood up and offered his hand. Will took it with the notes he heard echoing in his head. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for vague rough nsfw

Hannibal finally cooked red meat.

“Is this someone?” Will asked immediately the first time Hannibal set a cut roast in front of him. As decadent as Hannibal can make food look with a drizzle of sauce and a bed of vegetables, the memories of dinners past haunted his mind. 

“It’s pork, Will.” Hannibal answered almost reassuringly. It felt like a compromise how patient Hannibal took his question. As blatantly honest as someone like Hannibal can make it.

In return, Will ate without further question. 

It got easier as it happened more and more, and Will accepted more and more. To the point that Hannibal only had to say what it was for Will to accept its Hannibal seemed overjoyed to be back in his element, being able to serve such meat in every way imaginable. It came to a peak when he’d even butcher meat right in their kitchen, easing a knife into bleeding flesh with a powerful, skilled hand. 

And, Will didn’t bat an eye at it. 

Hannibal was a predator after all. 

He was getting comfortable again. Complacent in the situation.

But, it all came with such a comfortable intimacy. It was too easy for Will to accept a repeat of potato dumpling night. To knead dough for fresh pasta while Hannibal worked on the beginnings of the sauce. It took a bit of instructing, Hannibal’s hands pressing his firmly into the dough as they shaped it into a rough ball. 

Dinner had been delicious that night as always. 

Then, there were times when Hannibal would play the piano loudly with a free space on the bench. Sometimes, Will chose to slide up next to him, their shoulders brushing as Hannibal’s fingers danced across the keys. Occasionally, Will sat on the plush leather couch in the living room where he could let the classical notes wash over him instead of watching mesmerizing fingers work their magic. 

Then, there were nights were they wound up lounging on that same couch after a long day. Will would sip a cheap beer, one that Hannibal sent a glare at every time he took one out. Which Will just rolled his eyes at. Hannibal meanwhile sipped some wine and seemed to come undone for the first time that day. 

They’d whine over their days. Will had one student who wouldn’t show for class but held out hope for passing. Hannibal had a client, one with an utterly repulsive case of self entitled power that channeled into his job at a local accounting office. Will made a quip about confidentiality, and they laughed. 

Conversation would carry on after that to everything. Speculations over a new medical discovery Hannibal read about in his biweekly journals. How Will’s progress was going restructuring his lure collection. A proposition to maybe...just maybe adopt a dog. A discussion over local court trials and what they had missed. 

Somewhere between the conversations, they ended up pressed together where they had started on opposite sides. Hannibal seemed content to lean into him as he rambled off about a certain bacteria found in the stomach lining. Will responded by recalling a case he remembered with that bacteria all while trying to not mind the warm tingle that came from their contact. 

Still, he couldn’t deny that he was starting to feel some kind of affection for Hannibal. In fact, he may have always had. That’s what clears away Hanahaki disease afterall, right? 

It took a quiet little fishing spree to come to that realization. He sat at the rickety, old dock away from his house, casting out his new fishing lure to test them out. All the time he spent waiting for a bite was perfect for thinking or to just be alone. Hell, it’s probably the reason he had stayed sane through everything. Something about fishing just kept everything clear and orderly. 

Like how happy and content he was with the situation. 

He knew something would break it sooner or later. 

He didn’t expect it so soon though.

Will felt like he could tell something would happen when he walked back into the house. Hannibal was on his way out, pulling on a dark coat, and he told Will as much. It’s his face that gave him away though. A steely mask that tried to disguise itself as neutrality. 

“Hannibal.” 

Hannibal stopped and looked at him. His expression softened, but the point was clear from his hands clenched in his pockets. Around a knife if Will had to guess. 

It was time, whether Will liked it or not.

Will watched him walk out the door, his heart and mind racing. How? Where? Why now? Will could only form speculations on the matter until the front door slammed open again. 

Hannibal was drunk, something Will had never seen so blatantly on the man. He was dragged along by a seemingly more sober woman. The two seemed surprised when Will was staring at the two. 

It didn’t take Will too long to piece together who the woman was. Every movement Hannibal made, every word he spoke had to be modified. She corrected Hannibal’s slurred pronunciations of words she surely didn’t know, forced Hannibal’s jacket off even after he said he wanted to keep it on, and laid possessive hands over Hannibal. Right in the living room where Will could see.

Which Hannibal took with the obedience of a dog.

It was infuriating in a way that felt like something had been broken. Sure, Will knee this was probably a part of his design, but that didn’t stop Will from not wanting a part of it. So, he stomped off to the kitchen, intending to stow away in his room. 

Instead, he found a lone knife on the counter. Will picked it up. It was the one that Hannibal took great pride in sharpening until it could fillet meat like it was butter. 

Oh. Will’s grip tightened painfully around the hilt. That was his grand design. 

Will turned back towards the kitchen, his pulse growing to a screaming pitch in his ears as his outrage grew. He glowered over Hannibal and the woman. She was going off about some of the men she’s “been with” at her office. If by “been with”, she meant sexual harassment. All while pressing herself closer to Hannibal who was as tense as a board. 

Jesus Christ, she really was repulsive. 

All the more reason for Will to plunge the knife down. The woman silenced, her mouth falling into a slack o shape but she didn’t make a noise. Will pulled the knife free and plunged it down again. And again. And again. 

Warm liquid speckled his face. When he was finally sated, he was huffing with a bloodied knife in his grasp. He looked over what had been a thorn in his side. Hannibal’s hand let go off the grasp he had on her mouth. 

“Well, we have our work cut out for us, but that was a good start.” Hannibal smiled. Clearly less drunk than he originally came off as. 

And like that, his deafening rage was bad. He rounded the couch and pounced on Hannibal, straddling his lap and pressing the knife to his neck. Hannibal only craned his neck with a satisfied smirk. 

Will let out an angry growl and stabbed the knife into the couch. So, this was Hannibal’s design? 

Or, was just the woman his design? What even was Hannibal’s design at this point?!

“...And now, we’ll have to replace this lovely couch. What a shame.” Will barely heard. Barely felt Hannibal’s hands run down his sides. 

He spent so long bending to Hannibal’s design. What the hell did Will even want? What was his own design?

He looked over their position. Will still in Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal looked at Will with a careful look, his pupils blown wide and his face red but his expression a calculated neutral. As if he’s waiting for a judgement call.

It’s then that Will realized Hannibal was hard under him. The realization sent shivers down his spine. 

I want to consume him, Will decided. 

Will grasped his jaw tightly and crashed their lips together. Will’s lips moved against Hannibal’s more than eager lips hungrily. Will pressed harder into it, biting at his lips. He let his hands wander under Hannibal’s shirt collar-already loosening by a button- only to dog his nails hard into his collar. Hard enough to draw blood in fact. 

Hannibal let out a rather undignified moan under him that did wonders for Will’s growing erection. 

They ended tangled together in Hannibal’s silk sheets minutes later. Pain and pleasure mingled together for what feels like an eternity. And then finally when they’re done, Will was huffing again as he came down from another release. His body stung from the new collection of love bites and scratch marks that adorned mostly his chest, though he could feel them everywhere. 

Will felt himself drifting off despite himself when he realized Hannibal had gotten up. Will whined, but Hannibal shushed him. He had Will’s mess to clean up after all. Best to get to it before the meat spoils.

By the time Will fully woke up the next morning, Hannibal was back in bed curled around him. 

And when he got out of bed to get ready for work, he checked the living room. It was pristine. The only evidence of last night was the nick in the couch leather and a freezer full of meat. Hannibal quickly followed him, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to teach him how to butcher and clean next time before he left for his morning appointments. 

Next time. 

...So, this was his life now, he thought numbly. 

**Author's Note:**

> I tried thank u for bearing with me 
> 
> Comment what you think lads. I’d appreciate feedback and hit that kudos if you liked it!


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